


You Beautiful Doll

by Femininehygieneproducts



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crack Treated VERY Seriously, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mcbeardy Paul, Paul is incredibly conflicted, Smut, bottom!John, doll!AU, john is a living doll, john wants to be loved by paul, living sex dolls, odd imagery, top!paul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femininehygieneproducts/pseuds/Femininehygieneproducts
Summary: Hi Paul.Thank you for your purchase. Congratulations. I hope that you find John lovely and fitting your standards. I made him with great care and attention. It is sad to see my beautiful boy go but I know he is in good hands. Love him as I did.xo,Jacques Lavigne————Grieving for his late wife, Linda, seems  like a never ending struggle for Paul. His grief soon turns into overwhelming loneliness, which encourages him to do something bizarre. Very bizarre. Like purchasing a ‘Live Doll’ off a shady website recommended by his friend, George Martin.**OR Paul learns that John (a.k.a: M-1625) is more human than he lets on.
Relationships: Brian Epstein/George Martin, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 78
Kudos: 94





	1. Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Okay so it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything chaptered. No the tik tok au doesn’t count (dw- it WILL be updated) lol. This is an idea I’ve been brewing for a while but didn’t know about posting it because it thought it was too odd? But this is ao3 you’ve all seen waaayyy weirder.
> 
> EDIT: it should be known that idk how auctions works for real. And I didn’t wanna research it. Yes bad move in my part lol

Paul sighed and collapsed into his desk chair after dismissing his students, not caring if they noticed his distress. Waking up that morning, Paul knew that day was going to be one of those life-draining Mondays the moment he forgot to throw his clothes into the dryer, and went to work with his clothes sticking to his skin in an unpleasant way. Despite his most enthusiastic efforts, today was tiring as it was disappointing. And it wasn’t even over. He was free of lectures but there were papers to be graded and projects to assign. Why he ever decided to become an English professor, he still doesn’t know. Suppose that’s what he got for following his dreams strictly based on his father’s wishes.

His eyes naturally fell onto his desk before settling on the framed photo of his wife. His dead wife. With her strawberry blond hair and eyes that seemed to smile even when she wasn’t. His lovely Linda. Life wasn’t so bad when she was around. He remembered the joy that would greet his heart first thing in the morning, and the smiles that greeted him second. The grief that assaulted him everyday after her death was unbearable at best, but was now replaced (or collaborating) with his crippling loneliness. As time went by he discovered that he just craved a warm body to sleep with, but had little to no motivation to go out and meet someone. Besides, he was convinced that no one could replace or match the love he had for his wife. He wouldn’t even try to find someone that could. Just a single night with someone. That’s all he needed. Maybe even someone he could spend his money on. Linda wanted for Paul to sell her photographs, even when she died, which left Paul with a bit more money than he knew what to do with.

Paul’s hands ran over his clammy face when George Martin entered- or _Professor_ Martin, Paul felt obligated to correct. He was smiling that usually handsome smile of his, swinging his keys on his finger. Paul smiled tightly.

“Afternoon, George.”

“ _Evening_ , professor.” Martin corrected as he stopped at Paul’s desk. Paul froze and looked at the watch wrapped around his wrist. Jesus. He could have sworn it was just two.

“Well. Evening, then.”

“Richard and I are having drinks at mine, if you want to join.”

Paul’s head was shaking even before Martin finished his proposal. “Can’t, George. I’ve got these papers to grade, and projects that need…” Paul trailed off upon noticing Martin’s irritated look, the man dropping his keys onto Paul’s desk as though they suddenly weighed a ton.

“Paul.” Martin sighed. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Paul sat up, on the defense. “Doing what?”

“Wasting your life away grading papers and handing out assignments. You’re 28 years old, don’t you think you should live your life before it’s too late?”

Paul laughed, though he didn't find anything amusing. “You’re starting to sound like my students.” Martin’s expression told Paul that he didn’t find anything funny either

“Just one drink, Paul. You said so yourself, that you wish to not be cooped up inside all the time, grading papers.”

Paul hated it when Martin was right, because he got that smug and knowing look on his face that drove Paul up the wall. But he was right. Paul was a hypocrite in the way he expressed his desire to meet someone, only to trap himself in the confines of his lonely house doing work. A six year old could point out the inconsistencies there. His shoulders slumped in defeat as well as acceptance and he stood. 

“Alright I’ll join you. But only for tonight!”

Martin’s grin was contagious. “Whatever you say. I’m just glad to have my friend back.”

  
  


*******

Paul’s palms were damp with sweat by the time he pulled up to Martin’s house, and he didn’t know why. He saw Martin almost every day at the University, what was so different about his house? Paul use to be a frequent visitor to Martin’s before he became a hermit, so he knew what it was like to spend time with him in a more intimate environment. That fact alone made Paul know that he was being irrational. Plus, Richard was there. He wasn’t as close as Paul and Martin were, but he was a kind enough lad to soothe Paul’s irrational nerves.

Judging by the extra cars outside, Paul could safely assume that Richard had already joined Martin. Great, not only was he unnecessarily nervous, but he was late as well. He sighed and climbed out of the car and made his way to Martin’s front door. After knocking once, he waited a few moments and was shocked to see it answered so fast, and was taken aback to see someone other than Martin or Richard answer the door.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Hi...” Standing in Martin’s doorway was a man who looked to be around the same age as them, maybe a little younger, with pale skin and dark hair. He was beautiful, Paul couldn’t help but notice. His light eyes widened as he stared at Paul in morbid curiosity, making Paul feel like he had twelve heads. Paul opened his mouth to greet him again but was cut off by Martin rushing forward and pulling the man away, chuckling nervously.

“Brian! I told you not to answer the door. Paul, come in.”

Paul shook off the strange interaction and entered. He peeled off his shoes as he watched Martin close the door, whispering something to the shorter man. He cleared his throat slightly, enough to make it seem organic while also gaining their attention. Martin looked to Paul and placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder.

“Paul. This is Brian. He’s my...husband.”

Paul’s face fell completely. Did Martin say what he thought he said? Husband?

“ _Husband?_ ”

Martin smiled warmly and lowered his hand to wrap around Brian’s waist before pulling the man closer. “Yes.” He snapped out of his smile to suddenly bring his hand to his face with a frown. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Paul couldn’t say anything as he just stared at Martin. 

“Don’t worry! We haven’t been married for that long. Only for...two months?”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone at all.” Paul finally managed to get out. “Let alone long enough to marry them.”

Martin chuckled awkwardly and rubbed at his neck. Meanwhile Brian stood close to his husband, smiling almost blankly. Paul didn’t care. He was waiting for an explanation.

It appeared that he wouldn’t be getting that explanation when Richard’s heavy hand clasped his shoulder, startling Paul. Paul nearly screamed and turned around to face the shorter man. His blue eyes already glossed over in inebriation.

“God, you nearly scared me shitless, mate.”

Richard laughed a bit too loudly. “Sorry, Paul!”

Paul smiled nervously down at the man. “It’s alright. Say- where can I drink what you’ve obviously been sipping on?”

Martin snorted as Richard aimed a clumsy punch at Paul’s shoulder. “This way, my friend.” Martin whispered into Brian’s ear again, which made the man jolt ever so slightly before hurriedly making his way upstairs. Paul thought his reaction was strange, but ignored his suspicions to follow Martin to the kitchen. He didn’t realize how much he was craving a drink until he smelled the whiskey on Richard’s breath. “Richard you ought to have a seat somewhere before you go crashing into something of mine.”

“Bah.” Richard waved him off but fell into the bar stool anyway, sluggishly climbing into the seat. Paul shook his head at the man before turning to watch Martin pour him a drink. He made a mental note to not get too drunk, seeing that he had a lecture tomorrow. Paul’s never missed a class and he doesn’t want to let his students down, even though they probably wish he would. It was just difficult for Paul to break consistent trends. Just one glass. That’s all he needed anyways.

Martin slid the glass Paul’s way and he downed it quickly. Martin raised his brows.

“Wow. Someone needed that.”

Paul only nodded as he let the burning liquid glide down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in its path. Footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, something Paul was going to ignore as he just assumed it was Brian making a return, but that was before he realized it was two pairs of feet this time. He halfway turned and saw Brian walk into the kitchen, only to be followed by another man. Or a boy- what he looked like to Paul. Not exactly a child, but younger than they all were. He was also pretty stunning, with his pale skin and dark hair, and eyes that were just as dark. Paul didn’t say anything as he watched the boy make his way towards Richard, throwing his arms around his shoulders before pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek.

“Hiya, Georgie.” Richard slurred, stroking a thumb against the boy’s cheek, who purred and slinked into his lap. Paul blinked at the couple before turning back to Martin and Brian, who were also glued to one another. And it was in that moment when Paul realized:

He was the only single man in that room.

It’s been established that Paul didn’t remember Martin ever meeting anyone to marry, but Richard? If Paul had any hope that someone would stay single for the sake of his mental stability, that it would be Richard. He was starting to feel attacked. Did they purposely hide their relationships from him for this moment? To embarrass and make him feel ostracized from the group more than he already did? He wanted to say aloud everything he was feeling, but didn’t want to be responsible for the night getting ruined. So he awkwardly cleared his throat. Again.

“So, Rich. Who’s- er, your lad?”

“My lad?” Richard slurred. He placed a hand on the boys hip to pull him further up his lap. “‘S George. Ain’t he sweet?”

George giggled and ducked his face into Richard’s neck when his cheek was pinched. Paul smiled tightly and nodded, but didn’t want to say anything else. He looked to Martin who’s eyes shot away from him as soon as he turned. He rubbed at Brian’s shoulder as he sipped his glass despite it being nearly empty. Paul pursed his lips.

“George.”

“Hm?”

“Pour me another.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A few shots later and Paul was absolutely plastered. Every glance at Brian nestled on Martin’s lap or George cuddled to Richard’s side only made him want another shot. Martin had to cut him off knowing that Paul was the one who drove himself there. Of course Paul was annoyed, but realized that he was drunk enough to make it through the rest of the night.

The friends were gathered in the living room, Paul lounging in the recliner and the couples on the couch. They were having a conversation amongst each other, and even tried to engage Paul in their discussion but gave up when he gave short, choppy, utterances as responses. Paul found that he could only watch them enjoy themselves for so long, though, but didn’t want to truly partake in their conversation.

“So.” He started loudly. “What is this about?”

Martin blinked. “What’s _what_ about, Paul?”

“All of this.” Paul motioned vaguely at them. “One day, you’re all single, and now you’re not? Martin, you’re married for fucks sake!”

Martin raised his hands. “Paul. Lower your voice, please.” Martin shot a nervous look to George and Brian, who were starting to tense up and...shake? Paul slouched in his seat, realizing that shouting hurt his head anyways.

“I...I think we should go.” Richard said as he rose to his feet. “What do you think, Geo?”

“I’m comfortable with doing whatever you want to, Richard.” Was George’s obedient response as he took Richard’s hand. Paul frowned as he watched the couple leave, it dawning on him that that was his first time hearing George’s voice. Something other than him giggling or humming vapidly against Richard. When the front door slammed shut, Paul’s head whipped towards Martin.

“You’ve got some fuckin’ human traffickin’ bullshite going on here-“

“God- Paul do you _hear_ yourself!” Martin finally snapped before running his hand over his face and resting the same hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Go upstairs for me, love. Please?”

Brian, whose eyes were wide and fearful nodded numbly before standing and pacing upstairs. Paul’s scowl remained glued to Martin, who was massaging his forehead with his fingers, clearly distressed. Paul went to speak but Martin stopped him, holding up a hand. 

“This isn’t human trafficking. It isn’t anything like that.” Martin opened his eyes to look deeply into Paul’s. “You know what- this was all my fault. Honestly. I should have told you we would be having company.”

Paul slowly felt himself starting to sober as guilt crept up his chest. “George...no, don’t blame yourself-“

“Nope.” Martin shook his head and waved him off. “I should have told you. I was aware how you’ve been lately with your...loneliness and all. I-I shouldn't haven’t done that.”

For the nth time that night, Paul didn’t know what to say. He was torn between agreeing that Martin should have told him that he and Richard would be bringing a plus one, and not wanting his pathetic melancholy to ruin his friends’ night.

“I just...I can’t believe you got married, George.” He decided on saying. “And without telling me, too? I thought that- that we were closer than that.”

Martin chewed on his lower lip as he stared at Paul, his brows tightening together. Paul swallowed. The expression on his friend’s face was otherwise unreadable, but Paul felt as though there was some deep consideration going on in his mind. Paul coughed, even though he didn’t have to clear his throat, and shifted in his seat, folding his hands into his lap. Martin lifted a hand to swipe it through his light hair, his eyes darkening further as he looked to his left, a deep sigh escaping his parting lips. Paul felt his hands freeze when Martin looked back at him with cold, calculating eyes.

“Paul. I’m going to tell you something, and I’m going to need you to be as mature as you can with the information I’m giving you.”

Swallowing the offense he felt at Martin telling him, a grown man, to be mature, Paul sat up straight. “Er...okay. What’s wrong?” God, there was a human trafficking thing going on was there? And Martin was about to wrap Paul in his mess. It was Paul’s turn to chew on his bottom lip.

Martin rubbed his hands together, the toughness of the skin creating a grating sound that irritated Paul’s sensitive ears. “I’m... _God_ , I already know you’re not going to believe this unless I show you…”

Paul’s eyes widened when Martin simply stood. “What?” He stood to follow his friend as he made his way upstairs. “What’s going on, George?”

Martin said nothing as he silently ascended the stairs, not doing anything to stop Paul who was close on his heels. Martin stopped at the master’s bedroom, pausing before opening the door. As each moment passed, Paul’s confusion became more intense. He followed Martin into the room where Brian was sitting on the bed- doing just that. Sitting there, staring at the wall as if Martin didn’t even enter. Paul thought Brian was a weird bloke the entire night, but didn’t want to linger on those thoughts for long in fear of appearing rude. Maybe Brian was from a different country and didn’t know how to make his way around them, maybe he was suffering from some sort of mental illness. The possibilities were endless.

“Brian. Brian, sweetheart.” Martin called. Brian gave a little stir, blinked, before looking up at his husband with a patient smile. 

“Yes, dear?”

Martin sat next to him on the bed while Paul remained where he stood, his hands holding onto each other. “Paul. This is Brian.”

Paul slowly nodded. “Yes...you told me.”

“Also known as M-1530. He isn’t real.”

Paul’s face went to his hands where he ran them over his face. “George. I’m not really in the mood for any tricks right now-“

“This isn’t a-“ Martin snapped but quickly gained his composure, though he was still breathing heavily. “Sorry. Sorry, you- you have every right to not believe me. It does sound ridiculous but- let me just...show you.”

At those words, Brian jolted sharply. “George. _No!_ Please, I don’t want him to-“

Martin gathered him into his arms and shushed him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Paul felt like he was being pranked, yet he still remained in his friend’s room to see the outcome. Maybe it was the whiskey, but there was a part of Paul that wanted to believe Martin, that’s how boring his life was recently. He was willing to believe that his friend’s spouse wasn’t even real, despite being more than present in front of Paul.

After some hissed back and forth that Paul couldn’t bring himself to listen to, it appeared that Martin finally convinced Brian to do whatever it was Martin wanted. Martin glanced at Paul, as though checking to see if he was still there, before urging Brian to lay on his stomach. Paul paled when Martin began to pull up Brian’s shirt, then pull down his pajama bottoms…

“No.” Paul shook his head and began to back out. “George, no. I-I’m uncomfortable with this. It’s upsetting.”

“Paul-“

“It’s _upsettin’!_ ”

“Paul!” Martin stood tall before advancing on him, making Paul shrink into himself. “I’m trying to help you out here!”

“How is this helping me?! I-“ Paul peered over Martin’s shoulder to look at Brian, who lied motionless. It chilled Paul. “This is fucked. So fucked, George. And you know it!”

Paul turned to march towards the door but Martin had beat him to it, slamming it in his face. Paul gasped and reeled back, looking up at his friend in disbelief. Martin was going to kill him. He was either going to kill him, or do whatever he did to Brian to make him that… strange. Paul braced himself for a fight, tensing up when Martin started to speak.

“Paul, watch me. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to hurt Brian. Just- watch. Me.”

Paul’s breath was audibly shaky when Martin stared at him, making his way back to the limp and nearly lifeless Brian. It looked like the smaller man had given up. Presenting himself in a way he knew would please Martin, no matter how mortifying it may have been. Martin hiked his shirt up further, revealing a pink, silk band tied around the man’s slim waist. Martin beckoned Paul over with the bend of his finger. There was some hesitance, but Paul found him shuffling closer to the man, his eyes glued on Brian. When Paul was close, Martin’s hands slowly landed on Brian’s sides where he started to loosen the wide ribbon.

“George…” Brian whimpered, his soft voice startling Paul as it broke through the thick silence.

“Shh, love. It’s okay. It’s only for a moment.” Martin tried to comfort. Brian quieted down, but only for a moment as he was still whimpering to himself, his small frame vibrating with his trembling. Martin pulled off the silk and placed his hands on Brian’s sides before pressing his thumbs down. Paul’s breath hitched.

“George, I-“

There was a soft _click_ and Brian deflated, his form more limp and lifeless than before. Paul’s jaw fell open as he watched Martin twist Brian’s upper torso and detach him from his lower half.

“Holy SHIT!” Paul stumbled back in terror, slamming into the wall but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. His blood rushed to his ears in a loud, rumbling wave, and he was at risk of passing out. Martin didn’t seem phased by his reaction, and just arranged Brian’s naked lower half into a sitting position; or rather, what he could make of a sitting position when the upper half of Brian’s torso was missing. 

Paul didn’t remember sitting himself on the ground, so it was safe to assume that his legs gave out. Martin was talking to him but Paul wasn’t listening. Even if he strained his ears to hear Martin, he wouldn’t be able to make out the words with the thunder that rolled in his head. He was waiting to wake up. He was probably passed out on Martin’s couch and was having some bizarre dream brought on by the whiskey. He would soon wake up to Martin reprimanding him for drinking so much on a school night.

This couldn’t be real.

His vision was swimming in and out, along with his senses, so he didn’t notice Martin making his way towards him until he was grabbed by the arm and yanked to his feet. Martin’s strong hands gripped his shoulders to steady him. Paul’s eyes accidentally landed on Brian’s dismembered torso and legs and he almost fainted again. That was until Martin gave him a firm shake.

“Get a hold of yourself, Paul! Snap out of it!”

Paul’s eyes suddenly grew large when he realized who was gripping his shoulder. The man who split Brian apart. Brian, who was begging him not to. Letting out a savage scream, Paul raised a fist and aimed at Martin’s face, but was quickly intercepted by Martin’s own hand that wrapped around his wrist and yanked him forward. Paul struggled, but it was to no avail seeing that some influence from the whiskey mingled in his system, making his limbs heavy and coordination clumsy. Not to mention his initial shock still left him disoriented. Martin’s grip on Paul’s shoulders were painful when he forced him to stand in front of the bed.

“Stay. Still.” Hissed Martin in his ear. So Paul obeyed. He didn’t know why he was compelled to listen, but he did. Maybe it was because he couldn’t look away from Brian’s- corpse? God it was too much for him to think too deeply on. At the end (or top, for his lower half) of Brian’s body, no blood could be found. Paul couldn’t even see where Brian’s bones would be, but he wasn’t hollow. Brian looked like he was stuffed with...velvet pillows? Paul couldn’t assess what exactly it looked like Brian was filled with. Whatever it was, was moving inside of him. Swimming. And it wasn’t normal to the human anatomy. Still, the image of Brian’s upper half lifeless and his naked lower half was a chilling sight.

“You see this, Paul?” Martin’s husky voice ripped him from his ruminations. “This is real. Now, are you going to accept it and let me show you, or am I going to have to escort you home?”

There was no way this was actually happening.

_Show me…_

“I…”

Martin must have been playing a cruel joke on him. 

_Brian…_

“I-I…”

“Paul?” Martin’s voice was laced with concern the first time that night, and Paul clung to it. At least he did for as long as he could.

Before he fainted.

  
  


************

  
  


Paul awoke minutes later, and was lying on Martin’s bed. This time, Brian was put back together and was being caressed by Martin, right next to Paul. He frowned. Was that a dream? Had he been passed out on Martin’s bed this whole time? The couple didn’t seem to notice his waking, so he opened his ears to hear what they were whispering.

“I...I didn’t like it. At all.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have done that. Your comfort means more to me than being proven right.”

“I hate being turned off...I...I-I _hate_ it and-“

Martin pulled Brian further up his lap, shushing him softly. That’s when Paul shot up, startling the couple as they sharply looked towards him.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Brian whimpered which made Martin pull his head down to his chest, caressing his hair. “Please cut the shit, Paul. I just showed you what’s going on.”

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but chose not to, resting his head into his hands.

He really had no choice but to believe it, didn’t he?

Paul tried to justify it in his head. It was bizarre, most certainly. Martin disesembled Brian in front of him as if he had been some kind of toy. Which...what were Martin’s words again? Brian wasn’t real? Paul had to consider the worst that could happen if he believed Martin and went along with this entire situation. He felt that he’d be in more danger if he denied Martin, and treated him like he was crazy. A part of his brain wanted to convince that maybe Brian being some sort of...robot wasn’t the most unbelievable thing there was. But he didn’t want to get into those possibilities. Not yet.

Martin was his best mate. And if he was going to be crazy, then Paul would have to be too.

“Okay…” Paul lifted his head from his hands to look at Martin and Brian, who were watching him closely. “So…If Brian isn’t human.” Brian winced at his words. “Then what is he?”

Martin’s lips pulled the tiniest smile as his shoulder slumped in relief, seemingly relaxed at Paul finally accepting Brian’s bizarre existence. “Well, Paul. He’s a doll.”

Paul closed his eyes and sighed. Martin was making it harder than it needed to be. He wanted to believe in his friend for the sake of convenience but it was difficult to. How was Paul supposed to believe that?

“A _doll_.” 

“A doll.” Martin repeated. “I...purchased him. Online.”

“You purchased him offline.” Paul repeated slowly. He tried to muffle the doubt screaming in his head.

“He’s a ‘Live Doll’ to be specific. That’s the name of the manufacturer. Brian was made to be a sex doll, but over time I guess you could say...I fell in love with him.”

Paul gaped at Martin as he titled Brian’s chin up to kiss him gently, much to...the doll’s satisfaction. The doll that his friend was in love with. As time went on, Paul found himself not even that scared of the situation anymore, just morbidly curious.

“So...how does it work?” Paul asked quietly. “Is he a robot? A-An android of some kind?”

Martin pulled away from Brian, his hand still caressing his chin. “I would say so. What else could he be?”

Paul looked back to Brian, who was smiling that soft, blank smile again. The smile slowly morphed into a frown the longer Paul stared at him. Brian squirmed in Martin’s lap.

“Is he legal?”

Martin froze at that, looking at Brian. “No. I don’t think so. Some forbidden science was used to make him. If the- say, military or government got a hold of him, then we’d both be in trouble.”

“Was Richard’s boyfriend a doll, too?”

“I think he is. It’s honestly hard to tell.” Martin answered. “Richard didn’t say anything about having a doll, so I didn’t want to push it.”

“George...I’m...tired.” Brian spoke up, curling into Martin’s lap even further. Paul’s eyes ran down his body in an attempt to find any incongruences on his human like form. Everything looked normal. Perfect even. Brian’s skin was free of blemishes and looked soft to the touch. Softer than even most women Paul’s seen. His eyes landed on Brian’s foot, which had some sort of marking on it. Paul narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

**M-1530**. 

Like a tattoo going down the side of Brian’s bare foot. Paul leaned back when Martin stood, lifting Brian off the bed before settling him under the covers. Paul took that as a cue to stand.

“I should...go.” Paul swayed slightly on his feet but tried to hide it.

“Then goodnight, Paul.” Martin said, Brian’s hand in his. “Wait- Paul.”

Paul paused his leaving to look at his friend. “Hm?”

“I can send you a link- if you want.”

“George, I don’t know if I wanna buy a-“

“I’m not urging you to buy one.” Martin interrupted, raising his hand. “I just...I figured you were curious.”

Paul didn’t say anything, and only stared at his mate.

“Are you not?”

“Not...what…?”

“Curious.”

Paul chewed on his lip, his brows furrowing deep in thought. There was no solid, consistent answer to that question. And if there was one, then he didn’t want to accept it.

Paul left, slamming the door behind him.

_______

When Paul arrived home, he slammed the door and instantly made his way to the kitchen where he fixed him a drink. This time it was rum and coke. He really wanted to forget about tonight. His head swam with thoughts that he was sure to drown in if he allowed them to exist any longer. A part of him told him that he was overreacting, and that Martin owning a living sex doll wasn’t the craziest thing that could happen to him. The other part of him was urgently begging him to move far away. Far away from Liverpool. Far from Britain. Both thoughts were too extreme and were battling each other in the cramped space of his head. Paul just needed another drink, then all will be well.

He downed his second glass that night and slammed the cup down, wondering what time it was. The digital clock on the stove told him that it was 3:00am, which blew his mind. He didn’t think it was that late, but that would explain how tired he was. His exhaustion paired with the drunken sensation that dripped through his skull like melted honey prepared him for the awful sleep he would be getting that night, if he got to sleep at all.

Paul stumbled his way through the dark house until he reached his room, the bright screen of his PC being the only source of light to illuminate the dark room. He squinted at it, wondering why it would be on...unless.

Upon walking closer to it, Paul noticed the little red ‘1’ that lit up next to the opened email tab. Oh, it was only an email. Maybe one of his students had a question for him, as it wasn’t out of place for one of them to ask for help at such a late hour. He groaned and pulled himself down into the computer chair before clicking on the notification. He frowned.

George Martin? Why would he be sending him mail so late-

Oh.

How could Paul have forgotten so quickly? The events of that night were strange enough to leave an impactful impression for the rest of his life. Martin sent him that link, and Paul’s fingers were itching with the want to open it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. Terrified of what would happen if he opened the strange link sent to him.

The only thing stopping him from throwing his computer out the window was the fact that it was Martin who sent the link. Martin, his trusted best friend for years. Surely he had no reason to sabotage Paul, did he? Besides, Martin did more than open the strange link himself, he purchased something from the website, and he was fine. Was he? Paul did notice that Martin was happier than he normally was. Even if the happiness stemmed from...a sex doll.

Paul shook his head and opened the message entirely. He was going to check out ‘Live Dolls’ or whatever it was Martin called it. What could go wrong? A quick scroll through, that’s all he was going to do. He wasn’t planning on buying anything. Just a quick scroll, that was all.

Paul grabbed his mouse and slowly hovered it over the link. Paul wasn’t stupid. He knew that there would be something he would surely regret in the morning if not the next few days. His senses were fogged by whiskey and rum, and he couldn’t bring himself to fret too much about his decision making. 

He clicked the link.

Paul chewed on his finger as he watched the page load. His computer wasn’t out of date or anything, but the page took quite a few minutes to open. Paul’s brows furrowed, text popping up onto the screen one by one as an outdated website layout slowly appeared. Strange. The website looked to be made in 1995 with its plain black and white screen. There were no photos either. Until…

Paul would have missed it if he blinked. The page seemed to jump to life as photos of beautiful men and women appeared on the screen, as well as cursive texts. It was starting to look less shady. The words LIVE DOLL appeared on top of the screen, while a tagline of a smaller font read:

_We have beautiful dolls...make them yours._

Right after Paul read the line, his speakers blared an old timey song loud enough to almost send him flying out of his chair.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

_Oh! You beautiful doll! You great, big, beautiful doll!_

Paul fumbled with his computer as he turned the music down. The song sounded over 100 years old, it’s scratchy quality sure to damage his speakers, but Paul wasn’t worried about that. He was too busy staring closely at his computer screen. His eyes (among other parts of his body) were certain to be sore tomorrow with how close he was looking at the bright screen. Paul mindlessly clicked on the menu button, still familiar with the website’s layout with all the online shopping he’s done. There was only one tab available.

_Dolls_

Well, then. He clicked out of it to continue observing the home screen. ‘NEW ARRIVALS’ was the other enticing banner across the top of the screen, its large pink text over peaks of bare legs, chests, and arses. Paul clicked it.

“Jesus Christ.” He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he wasn’t prepared for anything he was about to see. 

Photos of people- well, dolls were listed on the screen like a shopping catalog. All female. Their smiling faces pictured above names Paul would have to assume were given to them. One of them that caught his eye was ‘Pattie/F-1623’, a gorgeous blonde with large blue eyes similar to an angel’s. She was gorgeous. Which would explain the 400+ visitors waiting in the auction room to win her.

_Bidding?!_

Martin attended an online auction to win Brian? And here Paul thought that it was a normal purchase. Well, as normal as one can get when buying a living sex doll.

Paul’s curiosity spiked dangerously. He opened the room. 

‘ _Are you a spectator or participant?_ ’

Paul frowned, not liking that he was actually considering. He clicked ‘spectator’.

A few seconds later and a chat room was revealed. Messages swam up the screen as all the visitors were actively waiting for the auction to start.

‘ _I can’t wait to fuck that bitch silly’_

_‘I’m going to ruin it’_

_‘Just look at those lips...imagine what you can do with them’_

Paul clicked out of the chat room. He knew that Pattie wasn’t technically human, and was designed to please men, but he couldn’t stand to see that language being used, even if it meant him being a prude. He didn’t want to witness it. He scrolled through the other news arrivals’ mindlessly, taking note of how they varied in size, body type, and color. The only thing they all had in common was that they were all female. Paul scrolled to the top of the screen where he just noticed a small blue tab on the right labeled ‘boys’. Why not, he thought. He’s gone this far. He might as well take a look at the male models as well.

So he clicked the tab.

The boys were just as beautiful as the girls were and varied just as much. Paul ignored the way his interest peaked more at the men than it did the women, excusing it as general curiosity. There was already an auction taking place for a doll named ‘Toby’, a male with black hair and perfect olive skin. The names ‘Michael K.’ And ‘David B.’ were taking turns flashing under the doll’s photo making Paul assume that they were fighting for the number one spot. The entire experience was strange, but Paul didn’t want to linger on that. Not anymore. After some more scrolling, Paul found the doll that was next up for bidding.

‘John’

Paul opened his photos and- wow. John, just like everyone else on the site, was beautiful. But where everyone else’s beauty lay in their face, John’s was his body and his face. Soft skin, beautiful curves with freckles dotted across his perfect complexion. His headshots were something to marvel, but Paul found himself the most drawn to the photos of John’s full body photos. Lounging on a couch in nothing but a thin lingerie slip. Upon reading the descriptions beneath the photos, Paul quickly realized that John’s most prized feature was his arse, which explained how most of his photos were focused squarely on that area.

_John is a playful young man ready and willing to let anyone play with his body, especially his tight not-so-little ass._

Paul shivered at the sentence before looking back at the graphics. It was odd. John’s full body photos were different from his headshots in that he looked to be unconscious, which made Paul feel uncomfortable to ogle at an unconscious person. Doll. Paul couldn’t help but see these playthings as people. John especially. And he didn’t know why.

The auction was about to start in twenty minutes, and a chat room was opened to allow visitors, which was already growing close to 100. 

Paul joined it as a spectator. 

When John was purchased, he would be off the website for good. And Paul wasn’t ready to see him go. Not yet. God, the attachment he felt towards a doll was mortifying! But in his heart, it felt justified. John was beautiful. His body was beautiful. His eyes beckoned Paul over where Paul would gladly welcome him into his heart. Maybe it was the rum talking, but all that mattered was that Paul felt those emotions ring true in his heart.

More people started to join the chat room until the number was a little above 300. Paul wiped the sweat off his forehead. Knowing that there were others that probably felt that strong about John was worrying. Paul frowned when a familiar name joined the chat.

_David B._

Paul assumed that he lost the last auction, and made his way to John. 

‘ _Im gonna win this one_ ’ was David’s message that was almost missed by Paul. So his suspicions were correct. David lost Toby and was determined to win John.

‘ _That bitch is mine_ ’

Paul frowned at the possessive message. Why did this David character want a doll so badly? And why did David’s proclamations anger Paul? There was a voice screaming at Paul to not let David win John. That John simply could not go home to David. He couldn’t be David’s.

He had to be Paul’s.

That was the only way. Paul couldn’t interfere with David’s purchase, nor could he ensure that anyone else won besides the man. Paul would have to buy John on his own. Not just to see David lose. 

But because he wanted John to himself.

Paul changed his spectator role to participant, and when the website asked for his credit card information and location, Paul knew that he was in too deep to pull out. He hastily typed it in, the auction ready to start in a couple minutes. 

Paul was going to regret this. Big time. But he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head that was telling him he was doing the right thing. David thought that this whole ordeal was a game, so why couldn’t Paul?

And when the auction started, Paul knew that he was ready to play.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


John’s starting price was 100, an amount that a couple of members didn’t want to pay and dropped out. Paul shook his head at them, wondering what kind of numbers they were expecting. Paul had quick fingers and was the first to make the highest bid every time, David tight in his heels. He didn’t realize he was sweating until he felt a droplet land on his thick lashes. Living alone was a blessing during moments like these. Paul couldn’t afford someone walking in on him clicking frantically away at his computer, a photo of John bent over a couch, his round arse pointing towards the camera. In a way, it had been Paul’s driving form of motivation. That and the powerful desire to beat David at his lame game.

It didn’t take long until Paul and David were the only ones left. The price had raised to 950, and David was more hesitant with his bids, slowing down.

John was going to be Paul’s.

3050\. That was when David decided it was too much, and the auction was over. Paul slumped back into his chair, a cloak of relief with bitter snitching draped over his form as he groaned. He can’t believe it did that. John was his. David lost. He ran his hand over his face and scratched at his beard as he leaned towards the computer screen. He got another email notification but before he opened it, a message from David popped up on the screen.

‘ _Fuck you, Paul. Fuck you and fuck everyone on this platform. John was MINE. That doll was MINE.’_

_‘I'm gonna find you’_

Paul shook his head and finally exited the website, wanting to forget about it. As well as forget about David. It was over. He lost. David was a grown man, Paul assumed, he’ll get over it eventually. He opened the email, raising his eyebrows when he realized it was from Live Doll. Jacques Lavigne to be specific, John’s ‘maker’.

_Hi Paul._

_Thank you for your purchase. Congratulations. I hope that you find John lovely and fitting your standards. I made him with great care and attention. It is sad to see my beautiful boy go but I know he is in good hands. Love him as I did._

_xo,_

_Jacques Lavigne_

  
  


Below Jacques’s weird letter were more photos of John, photos that weren’t listed on the sight. Pictures of John’s smiling face under the sun, John in nothing but lace knickers with his arse once again pointed at the camera. Paul’s jaw fell open at the nude photos. John on his knees and elbows, his sultry brown eyes gazing towards the camera as he displayed his moistened, tight hole. Paul’s tongue darted out to lick his lips at the sight as an erection grew in his pants. It was the first time Paul got truly turned on that night. John was alluring to the eye to begin with, but these explicit photos stirred something deep inside Paul, making him feel hot. John was his doll. He won John.

John was his.

  
  
  


*************

Paul went to bed that night (or day, seeing that it was 5:00 when he finally went to bed) after sending his class a hasty email about how there would be no class that day. He woke up with a splitting headache and a straining erection. He woke up feeling strange in his chest, a sensation he often experienced after a night of wrongdoings. Only he hadn’t felt that way since he was a teenager. Paul doesn’t even go out anymore, why would he get that strange feeling in his gut-

Then it hit him.

Brian’s body being split in half.

That website that had living sex dolls for sale.

David.

John.

John being _his_.

“Awww, FUCK!” Paul swore as he ran his hands over his face. He spent most of his money- the money from Linda’s photography- on a shady website as well as giving them his address. How could he have been so stupid?! A prime example of him thinking with his other head. God he- he doesn’t even remember what John looked like! Paul’s head whipped to his computer. He remembered seeing an email with pictures. Paul climbed out of bed, not knowing why he was so determined to see what John looked like, but going along with his random urges anyways. Paul turned on his computer, thanking God when he didn’t see a virus alert or anything like that. Though he knew that relief wouldn’t last long.

Paul opened the email Jacques sent to him, and sure enough- those photos of John were there. His thick brown hair, inviting, almond-shaped eyes, thin smirking lips. Paul nearly forgot about the photos of John naked, getting startled by John’s arse suddenly taking up his screen. His erection twitched with interest. Paul sighed. Was he that lonely? A photo of a doll was turning him on, and Paul found it sad, no matter how realistic the doll may have looked. But Paul didn’t know what else to do other than reach into his trousers and grip his cock, pumping it. His hands were clammy enough for the contact with his prick to not feel incredibly dry. Paul’s eyes were glued to the screen, to John’s wet hole and soft arsecheeks until his eyes closed. His imagination would surely supply better images than the ones presented on his screen. As arousal fogged his brain, Paul’s shame faded out so that vivid images of John riding his cock could take its place. Paul eventually started to pump furiously, breathy groans escaping his lips as he squeezed his dick tighter. He imagined John slamming that fat arse of his onto his cock, expelling moans in a sweet voice Paul created. Paul could hear the sounds echo in his head, could feel the smooth skin of John’s ghosting his palms. Paul didn’t have to touch John to know his skin was soft to the touch. John was made to be perfect, and that’s exactly what he was to Paul. 

Perfect.

When Paul came, the shame rushed over him tenfold. He did that. God, he was pathetic. Knowing that Linda’s vanity was right behind him made him feel even sicker. It was like she was watching him, and Paul knew that if she saw what he had just done, then she’d be disgusted and disappointed. Nothing could match the disappointment he felt towards himself, though.

Paul fixed his trousers and shuffled back to his bed before flopping down on it and closing his eyes. The longer he slept, the longer he could be without the feeling of regret and shame.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Two months later**

As each day passed, Paul’s anticipation for his incoming “package” grew more intense. Paul’s never had to wait months for something to arrive before, and it was driving him crazy. He knew that ordering what he couldn’t help but see as a human was much different from the clothes, electronics, and books he usually ordered offline, which usually arrived in two weeks at most. Even the items he ordered from different countries didn’t take that long. Paul couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing to John. Assembling him? Cleaning him? Finishing touches? Whatever it was, must have required acute attention to detail and meticulous care. 

Martin and Richard were starting to notice a shift in Paul’s usually calm behaviour. He seemed easier to excite than normal, while still being on edge. Martin approached him about it in the break room one afternoon.

“Paul. What’s going on?” George whispered. “You’ve been acting strange since...since that night.”

Paul only drank his coffee and shook his head, waving off his friend. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Why do you think I’ve been acting weird?”

Martin gave him an unimpressed look. “Paul. I know you. You don’t act like- this. Can you just talk to me? Tell me what’s going on?”

Paul looked down at his mug, his twitching eyebrows a telltale sign of the internal conflict he was having with himself. Should he tell Martin? Why was he scared to? Martin had been in the same situation as him and had no room to judge. It wasn’t judgement Paul worried about. He didn’t know what he was so afraid of. Paul exhaled deeply and looked to his friend.

“There’s no use in lying to you, George.” Paul conceded. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. Just not today… when I’m ready.”

Martin smiled at that and nodded. “That sounds good to me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The package arrived on a Friday, at midnight. 

There was a sharp knock on Paul’s door, startling him from where he sat on the couch watching television. Paul probably sat still for ten minutes, half off the couch. There was nothing else it could be, right? Paul wasn’t expecting anything to be dropped off on his doorstep so it had to be...him. Paul took a deep breath and rose to shaky feet before shuffling towards the door. His hand landed on the doorknob and that’s when doubts swarm his brain. What if it was a gunman? What if he spent all of that money just to get shot in the face? Or worse- stabbed? Would it have all been worth it? The obvious answer was no, but Paul knew there was only one way to find out what was on the other sighed. He also had no idea how the company decided to package John and didn’t want whatever was outside just sitting suspiciously at his doorstep. He couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Well. Here goes…” Paul turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. He initially didn’t see anything, but his eyes eventually landed on the long, rectangular box at his doorstep. It was a soft pink with brown trimming, ‘Daniel’s Sweets’ written in large cursive letters on the top of it. Paul didn’t know if that was simply another name Live Dolls went by or a cover-up name. As Martin said, Paul’s purchase couldn’t have been legal. Paul glanced around briefly, ensuring that no one was around before bending down to grip the box and dragging it inside. He expected the box to be heavier but was surprised when it weighed about 41 kilos. Maybe it made sense that this doll wouldn’t weigh as much as a normal human being, seeing it wasn’t filled with the same internal makings as one.

The whole time, Paul’s heart was pounding in his chest. He closed the door and placed the box in the middle of the living area before standing up straight and staring down at it. It’s been two months, two months Paul should have used to prepare himself for this exact moment. But he wasn’t ready. John was a part of his life now. Paul couldn’t believe that he was initially thrilled to have John be his, because now he was nervous. He was terrified. The unknown had always intrigued Paul, but now he discovered that’s all changed. 

Maybe he would feel different once he opened the box?

Paul dug through the kitchen drawer until he found a small knife before marching back to the living room, another sigh escaping him when he got onto the knees. He had to lift the box slightly to get to the tape that sealed it and promptly dragged his knife across the bottom of it, popping sounds echoing through the room as he cut through the thick tape. It was really like getting into the box of a Barbie or something. Not wanting to ruminate on his fears and apprehension any longer, Paul placed his hands on either side of the lid and pulled up. The lid didn’t give in too easily causing Paul to give the cardboard a firm shake. That’s when Paul noticed the bottom half of the box sliding down slowly, separating from the lid. Paul wanted to drop the whole thing, closing it before kicking it back outside to never see it again. But he’d be lying if he said his curiosity didn’t have him by the balls.

Paul finally slid the entire lid off and threw it to the side. The box was stuffed with pink tissue paper, but it was clear that a human-shaped body lay beneath it. There was no denying its presence.

“Jesus fuckin’ shit.” Paul said as his shaky hands reached out to lift the paper. He screwed his eyes shut but continued to move his hands, pulling the paper away from the form. He jumped when he felt his fingers brush against what felt like skin. God, this was so fucked. But he couldn’t stop. He had to see.

Paul cracked one eye open, the sight of bare legs urging both eyes to snap open. Those were John’s legs. He knew those legs. It’s been a while since he last looked at a photo of John, but the man’s face and body had glued itself to Paul’s memory and made itself at home.

And now he was in Paul’s home.

Paul’s hands moved further up the box, peeling back the paper. John’s torso was revealed next, and Paul could see he was wearing a light pink babydoll slip. At least Jacques had the decency to send him dressed. 

It was a strange detail to notice, but Paul could smell John. He smelled like perfumes of lilac and roses and vanilla. Making Paul want to dip his head in closer and get a stronger whiff of the tantalizing scents. He was half expecting John to just smell like plastic and silicone, so that was a pleasant surprise.

It soon came time to reveal John’s face, and Paul froze. He put forth the image of John’s beautiful visage to prepare himself for what he was about to see. It was a bit too late to try to brace himself, but Paul needed all the help he could get.

He ripped back the paper.

“Oh…” 

John was even more beautiful in person than on the website, which didn’t do him justice. The skin was smoother, his face was softer, and even though they were closed, Paul could tell that John’s eyes were more shapely and bigger than in the photos. Paul felt like he was looking at an angel. At something that was crafted specifically for him, John was perfect. And he was his. Paul wasn’t afraid anymore.

The babydoll looked perfect on John, the light pink flattering to his smooth pale skin. God, Paul needed to touch so bad. He needed to feel John.

“Okay, okay-“ Paul stood to his knees and scooted closer, reaching in the box to gingerly grab John’s arms. The touch was electric. Paul had to let go, dropping John’s arms back to his sides, so he could pull him out better. He made his way to the side and slid his arms beneath John’s back and legs, and lifted him out. Wow. John was very light. Despite looking like a full grown man (save for the lack of body hair that came with being an adult male), John couldn’t have weighed more than a ten-year-old. It gave Paul chills. Paul knew that everything he was doing was incredibly creepy, but he didn’t care. He looked down at John in his arms, his limbs spread limply to his sides, his head thrown back with his lips slightly parted. Paul placed him on the couch where he adjusted his body into a ‘comfortable’ pose. His legs resting against the cushions and his back against the arm of the couch, his hands folded in his lap. It admittedly didn’t look very comfortable since John was slumped over his legs, which spawned a question in Paul’s head:

How in the hell was he going to turn on John?

Paul looked back toward the box he took him out of, and there it was. He bent over and pulled out the rest of the tissue paper and was shocked to find what looked to be plastic wrapped clothes. Small lace outfits that came with John. Just like an actual doll would. It wasn’t what Paul was looking for, but he was intrigued. He lowered himself onto his knees to see what else came with John. A vibrator, a silk band Paul remembered seeing on Brian, as well as other accessories and sex toys. That was really...generous of Jacques to send him the extra stuff. He moved the items to the side to grab the pale yellow card stock, congratulating him on his win. He sighed. That wasn’t what he was looking for. Then Paul remembered. Normally, when he ordered something offline, another email was sent to him. Could the answers lie there?

He stood to his feet and grabbed his phone off the couch. Sure enough, there was an email from Jacques. He opened it.

  
  


_Thank you and congratulations- again, for your win! I hope that you enjoy the gifts I sent with John. Other makers will not do that. I think you are very special, Paul. I think John will like you very much_.

Paul’s breath hitched at the message. So Jacques was being generous to send the extra items with John. He scrolled further down the email until he saw the instructions on how to ‘turn on’ John.

  
  


_You can’t turn on your doll without turning him on first!_

  
  


Paul rolled his eyes at the joke.

  
  


_It is really simple. Just turn him onto his back, and you will find a small heart (just like the ones on his sides). Press and hold onto the heart and be ready to hear your dolly sing!_

  
  


Paul blinked. Was that it? He assumed that any other setting up was done before John was sent to him, to save him some time. He distantly wondered how Martin knew how to detach Brian the way he did.

“Right.” He whispered as he made his way over to John, who obviously didn’t move an inch. Paul pulled him by the legs until he was lying flat on his back, and made no hesitation in turning him over. He pushed up John’s dress, briefly acknowledging his lilac knickers before the small heart at the bottom of his spine. It was a heart indeed, but it looked natural. A bit like a faded tattoo or a birthmark.

Paul’s hesitation returned. He had to turn John on. After doing so, John would be walking and talking just like Brian was. He would be living.

Perfect.

Paul pressed his thumb over the ‘button’ and pressed down. He didn’t let go until he felt John’s skin start to buzz softly. Paul gasped, jumping back. John wasn’t moving, but Paul knew he was alive. He couldn’t explain how- but he just knew. Even as John just laid there.

Then he heard music.

Paul couldn’t tell if he was just hearing things or if the music was coming from...John. A music box tune of a familiar melody twinkled in the air and Paul felt like he was on drugs. This was all so strange. But he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away from John and he wanted to be involved in any way he could. This was scary and strange, indeed. But Paul wanted to be involved. 

Paul soon recognized the tune as ‘Oh, You Beautiful Doll’, a music box version of the website’s theme. Paul would have been terrified if he wasn’t so invested in John. 

Then John started to move.

Paul’s eyes widened and he backed up, holding his breath. It started with John’s arm twitching, before slowly lifting and placing his hand onto the couch to raise the upper part of his body. The music box playing the melody the whole time. A small whine escaped John’s lips as he stretched, followed by a couple hums as he turned over to sit properly on the could, legs crossed. Paul was probably white as a sheet by then. No amount of preparation could equip him for that moment. To see John move. To hear his voice. It was sweeter than Paul imagined it to be. 

“Holy…”

John blinked once. Paul froze. He took another step back as John’s head slowly turned towards him, his wide eyes landing on Paul. A small smile broke out on John’s face, and he lifted a hand to his mouth and giggled. He fucking giggled! He giggled and it was the cutest sound Paul’s ever heard. Paul felt comfortable enough to move forward, but he was still unable to speak. John stared up at Paul until he stopped right in front of him.

Then he spoke.

“ _Salut! Je m’appelle John. Comment tu t’appelle?_ ”

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up. Time for Mclennon’s first interaction...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, but I think I’m gonna take this slow. I don’t want this fic to be rushed like my others in the past. I want to make sure they’re mapped out properly you know? Thank you all SOOOOOOOO much for all the comments you left on the last chapter! They mean so much to me and because of them, I published this part sooner than I was hoping to. Just for you guys 😉 see how much your positive comment impacts a writer’s process and motivation? 😉😉😉😉

“ _Salut! Je m’appelle John. Comment tu t’appelle?”_

Paul stared down at John from where he still stood in front of the couch, staring down at John who remained cross legged beneath him. It wasn’t until then did Paul notice that the twinkling of the music box’s song stopped. John smiled gently up at him, hands folded in his lap as he waited for directions. He was precious, but he was a _doll_. Paul was starting to get irritated at his own confusion, he thought he’d be used to the whole situation by now, but he couldn’t help it. His brain went back to when Martin first told him about the dolls, and his method of ‘acting like it’s normal until it was’. It worked last time, why would it fail him again? 

Paul frowned at John’s French speaking. Was there an option online to change his language? Paul knew French, but not enough to hold a conversation with anyone who was fluent, which he assumed John to be. He briefly wondered why John would be speaking French, until he remembered Jacques Lavigne, who must have been French, and programmed John to speak the language. 

“Er...you speak English?”

John blinked up at him, and Paul for a moment thought that he’d just have to improve his French, until John spoke.

“Like...this?”

Paul blinked. John’s voice was soft. Sweet. Endearingly nasally and high. There was still some semblance of French accent lingering in his speech, but Paul understood him fine. Paul gave him a small smile. “Yes. Like that.”

John’s eyes widened cheered to himself, squirming excitedly and clapping his hands. When his mini celebration was over, he pulled his knees to his chest and beamed at Paul. “I’m sorry. I’m not that good at it, but thank you!”

Paul raised a brow in amusement.”No, it’s quite alright.” John beamed again. Strange. All he did was confirm that John was speaking the language he requested. John must have been praise-sensitive or something similar. He wondered what else to say, or perhaps _do_ , to the doll as he observed him. Suddenly, his brain was flocked with all the questions he wanted to ask John, and all the (humane) experiments he wanted to conduct. It was not every day that he had the chance to interact with a living doll. If…’doll’ was the proper term for John. Paul knew he needed a few more interactions before placing a label on the...being. Paul was pulled from his ruminations when John stood on the couch and wrapped his arms around Paul’s shoulders. Paul’s breath hitched in his throat at the sudden attention the doll was giving him. The doll he masturbated to not long ago. He couldn’t help the red blush that rose to the surface of his skin. John chuckled lowly and wrapped his legs around Paul’s waist, who instinctively grabbed John’s thighs, making the doll smile grow. The lilac and vanilla he smelled earlier was now crowding his senses, alongside other things. John’s lips brushing against his, John’s erection pressing against Paul’s stomach, and the smooth, plush thighs that seemed to fit perfectly in his hands. Paul wanted to carry John to the back, throw him down on the bed and fuck him silly. That was the “caveman” part of his brain reacting to having a sexy young man in his arms. But Paul didn’t want to do that. He wasn’t 21 and he wasn’t into fucking the first thing that showed him interest anymore. Not only that, but a bitter feeling seeped its way into his stomach that made him not want to do anything with John sexually. He figured it was the regret he had been ignoring for the past month. He knew it would catch up with him on one of these days.

“What...what are you doing.”

A small giggle bubbled in John’s throat before he leaned in and pressed his lips against Paul’s cheekbone, though not quite kissing. “Are you going to fuck me now?”

Paul nearly choked on his own breath. Jesus Soddin’ Christ. How was he supposed to resist that? He wanted to say ‘sure’ and do what John was expecting him to, but _couldn’t._ And he finally knew why. He couldn’t help but feel guilty should he ever fuck a doll that didn’t truly want him, and only pretended to because they were programmed to. There was nothing natural about it and the consent didn’t feel totally there. Plus, his pride wouldn’t allow himself to get off to what he kept reminding himself to an object, no matter how tantalizing his lips were, or how warm he was, or how much he wanted it…

Paul had to be strong. 

“Ah...no.” Paul said as he placed John to his feet. John frowned at him and looked down at his wobbly legs, as if he was wondering why he wasn’t in Paul’s arms anymore. He looked back up at Paul.

“Oh! Okay...that’s fine. What do you want to do then?”

Paul wasn’t expecting John to want to do anything else, but answered regardless. “Me? Well…” he thought about how long it’s been since he’s been up fumbling with John’s packing for hours. “Well...I want to sleep.”

John’s eyes widened and he began to back away. “ _Sleep?”_

“Yes.” Paul answered slowly, confused as to why John was suddenly terrified. Then it hit him. “Oh. No! No! I’m not turning you off! I just, personally, would like to go to bed. Y’know. _Bed?_ ”

John took a step closer, cocking his head to the side. “Bed?”

Paul chuckled. “Yes, bed. And, erm- you can join me if you’d like.”

John’s smile was back on his face. “Sex?”

Paul nodded. “Yes, I- _NO!_ ” Paul ran his hands through his hair. “No! We aren’t having sex tonight.” _Or any night, for that matter._ “Come on, John. Let’s just go get some rest.”

John didn’t think twice about nodding firmly and walking up to Paul. So Paul motioned for John to walk ahead of him and guided him down the hall. Paul took note of John walking incredibly slow as he observed every fine detail of Paul’s house. Paul let him, watching as he ran his fingers down the walls and stared at the floor. When they reached Paul’s bedroom John let out a loud gasp.

“What is that?” John squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he pointed at Linda’s vanity. Paul’s heart stopped.

“That’s er-“

But John was already advancing towards it. He strode over and sat on Linda’s purple ottoman, a huge grin on his face. That’s when Paul jumped into action.

“NO!” Paul lunged over and gripped John’s bicep before snatching him off the seat. “Don’t _touch_ that!”

John cowered away from Paul’s angry face, his lower lip trembling as he fought back the urge to cry. Paul released him. Was John really going to cry? Could he cry? Paul didn’t want to make John sad, or anyone for that matter. But John especially, who clearly had a naïve mindset. He didn’t know any better. John didn’t know. Questions soaring through his brain about the possibility of John crying were being drowned out by his remorse for yelling at him. Paul ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed at his scalp. Linda’s death still left him feeling unstable and unhinged. “I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Paul turned to see where John had escaped to since he released him, and was shocked to find him bending over Paul’s bed, his underwear pulled down to his ankles and his dress bunched around his chest, pale arse on display. For Paul. 

“John...?”

“I-I’m sorry.” John said. “Are you going to fuck me or spank me?”

Paul cursed under his breath and rushed over to pull John’s knickers back up and fix his outfit before sitting John on the bed, the doll crossing his legs again and gazing sadly at his lap. John must have assumed that because Paul was going to do neither, that he was going to punish him another way. At least that’s the assumption Paul made from seeing how John was still shrunken in on himself, his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. Paul sat down in front of him and placed a hand on John’s knee, his thumb brushing the smooth skin there.

“I’m not going to punish you, John. You made a mistake. God- people make _mistakes._ ”

John frowned. “People.”

“Yes, peop-“ Paul stopped when he realized what he was saying. Fuck, John wasn’t a person. How did he keep forgetting that? “Well, you know what I mean. You didn’t have any malicious intent when you went over there, did you?”

John fumbled with his hands and shook his head.

Paul gave his knee a reassuring pat. “See?”

“What does malicious mean?”

Paul chewed on his bottom lip to keep from laughing at John. It was hard. John was too precious. He found himself unable to stop stroking John’s leg, the texture was so smooth it was hypnotic. “When I say you didn't have malicious intent, I mean you didn’t try to..be _bad_ or mean.”

John frantically shook his head. “No! I did not want to be mean! I was just...I wanted to look at the makeup…”

Paul’s eyes softened at John’s confession. It was so simple, and while Paul already felt bad for yelling at the poor boy, he was now starting to feel awful. His hand drifted down from John’s knee to caress his foot.

“I’m sorry.” Paul stared absently at the ‘ **M-1625** ’ on John’s foot. “You literally did nothing wrong.”

“But-but you yelled at me.”

“I know.” Paul breathed out, shaking his head. “I know, and I shouldn’t have.”

“No?” John shook his head, though it seemed he was just doing so to mirror Paul. Paul gave his foot a squeeze.

“No, I didn’t. Now let’s get some rest.” John watched as Paul climbed up the bed and made his way under the covers before copying him. Paul didn’t pay him any mind and fell onto his back, letting out a sigh. John did the same, letting out a higher, airy sigh. Paul snorted and reached out to flip off the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight, John.”

John rolled onto his back and stared at Paul. Paul could see his wide eyes even in the darkness.

“Can I...what is your name?”

Paul lifted his head to look incredulously at John. He was right. How could Paul have forgotten? He just assumed that John would know it already. Wouldn’t John have the right to know the name of his new owner? 

“Erm. Paul.”

“Paul…” John moaned as he scooted closer, placing a hand on Paul’s arm. “Paul… can you hold me?”

Paul was taken aback by the question, but then realized he didn’t know why he was. If John wanted to be held, then Paul would hold him, it wasn’t like he was asked to run a marathon. Plus, Paul would be lying if he said he didn’t want to hold the soft, small, doll in his arms. So he sighed and wordlessly slid an arm under John and pulled him close. Shit. John’s body fit perfectly next to his. It was the first time that night that Paul got to have John flushed against him in such an intimate way. He thought that holding him in his arms was bad, but having John snuggled to his side was somehow worse. Worse in a good way. Paul’s breath hitched in his throat.

“ _Merci_.” John whispered through a giggle before resting his chin against Paul’s chest. Paul said nothing as he closed his eyes and began to drift off. A random irritation niggled at his brain, though, as he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He frowned and opened his eyes. John still had his chin rested on Paul’s chest. Just staring at him. He grinned cutely when he and Paul made eye contact.

“Hi.”

“John.”

“Yes?”

“Do you...are you going to get some rest as well?”

John propped himself up on his elbow. “But I do not want to sleep. I want to talk to you…can we talk?”

“Well, love, I can’t. Sorry.” Paul said as he ran his hand over his face. Did he just call John ‘love?’. “I’m too exhausted.”

“Exhausted…” John repeated, deflating. “Okay.”

Paul gave his back a gentle rub. “Okay. Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight.”

Paul closed his eyes. He opened them a couple minutes later to John still staring at him, who jumped when he was caught.

“John.”

“I don’t know how to do that!”

“Do what?” Paul asked, his exhaustion making him easy to confuse.

“To do...rest.”

Even though Paul’s overwhelming sleepiness, he managed to crack a smile. “Just close your eyes. And relax.”

“Okay.” John rested his head on Paul’s chest. “You’re not holding me.”

“Right- right. Sorry.” Paul grumbled, even though he _was_ holding John. Just not as tightly as before. He gave John a squeeze. “‘Ows tha’...”

John hummed as he gave a small nod. Paul sighed in relief. Rest at last. He really had to do something about the way he’s been going to bed late every night. It’s gotten to the point where he felt undeserving of staying up late on weekends. Maybe it was the stress and anticipation of John arriving that was messing up his sleep schedule. Well, John was here now, Paul thought as he gave the doll’s waist a firm squeeze.. Paul wasn’t quite sure if John’s presence will help or scully his well being. Not yet. He honestly could bring himself to care. All he could focus on was the weight of his eyes and the lightness of his brain, John’s gentle weight pressing against him as sleep draped over his brain…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Paul woke up, the weight that was once all on his side was suddenly on top of him, making wake up semi unpleasant as the weight was the first sensation he fully processed. He groaned and threw his arm over his face and peeled his eyes open.

“God dammit.”

John was straddling his hips, bouncing playfully as he looked down at him.

“Are you awake?”

“What does it look like?” Paul groaned as he rubbed at his face. “What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t rest.” John swung his leg over Paul so he was kneeling next to him. “So I woke up and watched you do it.”

“Because that isn’t creepy at all.” Paul rolled onto his side as John giggled.

“Thanks!” John chirped. Paul sat up and watched as John flopped onto his back, the giggles never ceased while he brought his knees up to his chest. The look in his eyes went from playful to seductive in mere seconds, and that’s when Paul realized what he was doing. Paul’s eyes trailed down from John’s face to his thighs that were spread wide to reveal where his erection was straining against the lilac silk panties. John was trying to entice him. The doll really couldn’t help it, couldn’t he? If this was how John would be acting, then Paul didn’t know how much longer he could go without fucking him. It didn’t help that John clearly wanted it too. Not knowing what else to do, Paul sighed and pulled John’s knees back down to the mattress before sitting him up. John frowned.

“I thought we were going to have sex.”

“Why would you think that?” Paul blinked slowly, not understanding John’s logic.

“Because, you- erm…”

Paul stood from the bed and motioned for John to do the same. He decided that John didn’t have a valid reason and that he was going to save him the trouble of making him think of one. Also he was growing hungry and really wanted breakfast. He wondered, as he made his way to the kitchen, John trailing him like a puppy, if John was hungry as well.

“You hungry?” Paul asked as he pulled down an unopened loaf of bread from the cabinet. He looked to John when he didn’t get an answer, and found him standing behind the kitchen counter, fiddling nervously with his hands. Paul chuckled. “Go on, sit. Are you hungry?”

John shook his head silently as he slid onto the bar chair. Paul shrugged and set the loaf onto the counter. That answer was fine. But as Paul went to search for butter, another question popped into his brain. 

“Do you even...get hungry?”

“No.” John said solemnly as he ran his finger along the countertop. “I _can_ eat. I just...do not have to.”

“Oh…” that’s interesting. Paul’s fascination with the doll seemed to grow by the minute. “When you do eat, do you enjoy it?”

John shrugged. “Sometimes. Everything tastes the same to me.”

“So you have no sense of taste.” Paul said, mainly to himself. “What about your smell?”

John shook his head again, only this time he was giving Paul a weird look, as though he was wondering why Paul was asking him such questions. Paul raised his hands and took a step back. 

“I’m sorry. I won’t ask that again, okay? I’m sorry for being so intrusive.”

John nodded and picked up a stray spoon, his mood back to its usual naïve self. “In..trusive?”

Paul laughed as he grabbed himself a glass of water. “Yeah, _intrusive._ Like- prodding or...being in someone’s way when they don’t want you to be.”

“And prodding...it means the same as intrusive?” John placed the head of the spoon over his eye as though he expected to see out of it. Paul reached out gently pry it from his fingers and threw it in the sink. John brought his hands to his lap and looked bashfully up at Paul.

“I am sorry…”

“No you’re fine.” Paul said after taking a sip from his glass. “I just needed to wash that. And yes- prodding and intrusive have similar meanings, John.” A small grin grew across his lips. “You’re a smart one, you are.”

  
  


That seemed to instantly make John feel better, who bounced slightly in his seat and cupped his hands on his cheeks. Paul made a note to compliment John more. 

After celebrating, John looked down at his hands where he poked at his own fingers toying with the hem of his slip. That’s when Paul realized that he had the pink outfit on all day, and wondered if John wanted to change. Plus if Paul had to go to the store, then there was no way he would be leaving John home alone. He at least wanted the doll to get dressed in something that wouldn’t turn heads. Paul walked past John and made it into the living room where John’s box still lay in disarray. He knelt down and began to rummage through the vacuum sealed outfits, observing the different colors and patterns, wondering what they would look like outside of their packaging. He startled when a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“That’s my favorite.” John said as he pointed inside the box. Paul held up a peach number in question. John shook his head, pointing more adamantly. “No. _That_.”

Paul’s eyes followed his finger, blushing when they landed on the pink silicone vibrator.

“Oh.”

John hummed, resting his chin on Paul’s shoulder. “I like that too.”John pointed to the peach chiffon outfit and Paul huffed.

“Do you...wanna put it on?”

“Yes.” Paul could feel John bouncing in excitement behind him. “Please.”

Paul tore open the plastic until the entire outfit was revealed. He honestly didn’t know why he expected anything different. Why _wouldn’t_ the outfit be the peach lingerie set he held in his hands. Paul was at a loss for words as he tried to push away the images of John wearing the outfit bursting through his head, the doll in question snickering in his ear. A tired sigh pushed past Paul’s lips as he rose to his feet, dropping the outfit.

“Where are you going?” John asked as Paul headed towards his bedroom. He padded behind him, and Paul realized that he would have to get used to John doing that for a while.

“I’m going to find you something else to wear.” Paul answered, and he suddenly didn’t hear John’s footsteps anymore. He ignored it and assumed that maybe he was distracted by something again. When he reached his bedroom, he made his way towards his bureau, already knowing what items of clothing he was going to grab for John. He pulled out an old, but clean, t-shirt. It was pretty large on him, so he knew it would swallow John, but that was fine. It was just for today. There was also a pair of joggers he washed incorrectly and shrunk, which he was sure would fit John fine. He always wondered why he never threw the trousers away, but now he was glad he didn’t. It was as though the universe knew this exact moment was going to happen. 

Paul laid the outfit out on the bed, giving up the task of finding John shoes. He would just have to buy some, since none of Paul’s would fit his smaller feet. He made his way into the living room only to find that John wasn’t where he left him. He didn’t fret too much and entered the kitchen, which was precisely where he found the doll, eating out of a bag of marshmallows Paul barely remembered buying. 

Wearing the peach chiffon lingerie.

“John.” Paul started, slowly rounding the kitchen counter. “I thought you couldn’t taste anything.”

“I like how these feel.” John popped another marshmallow into his mouth. Paul just shook his head and walked towards John, reaching out to take the bag from John only to have John reel back and clutch the bag to his chest.

“No! I’m not finished!” 

“John, those are probably old, and not good for you. Give it here.” Paul finally took the bag from John’s hands, causing John to huff in frustration. Paul ignored him like he would any child, or anyone acting like a child, to toss the bag away. He was trying to remember when and _why_ he bought a bag of marshmallows when John sat himself down at the kitchen bar again. The opposite of that Paul wanted him to do. Paul advanced towards him, ready to tell him off, but found himself staring at John’s outfit. The chiffon fabric was more sheer than lace, making John’s bare hips and chest more visible than they were before. His mouth watered. He really was starving. It’s been _so_ long since he’s done anything with anyone, and he found that fact saddening. Then there was John, who further stirred the sexual starvation that bubbled in Paul with his soft curves and constant advances. 

“Alright, John. Come on.” Paul said Paul’s tight voice, tapping the doll’s shoulder. “I need you in something normal.”

“But this is normal!” John snapped, surprising Paul. “And I like it…”

Paul was not in the mood to argue with a _doll_ , and reached out to grab John’s arm, only to have him slink out his grasp and twirl away into the living room, where he fell onto the couch. Paul’s lips slightly parted in disbelief before he brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why was John so difficult? He knew that owning a living sex doll wouldn’t be an easy task, of _course_ , but Brian and George (if George was even a doll) were so...obedient? Paul tried to think back to the website, and if there was anything stating that John was difficult. The only word he could remember was ‘playful’, and John’s current behavior was not something Paul could call playful. Difficult and annoying were words that came to mind. Paul didn’t even care about getting John decent that much anymore, the desire of having the doll just simply _behave_ becoming the more dominant desire. 

John reached for the remote to examine it closely when Paul marched towards the couch, as though he’s never seen one before. Which- Paul assumed must have been true. John turned it to the side and pressed it against his ear and that’s when Paul tore the remote from his hands. John startled and looked up at Paul as he threw the remote to the side.

“Do I have to carry you back there?” Paul bit, scowling down at John, who nodded enthusiastically and raised his arms. Paul faltered. Carrying John was meant to be more of a threat, but he should have known that John wouldn’t see it that way. Frustration growing by the minute, Paul lifted John off the couch and threw him over his shoulder before marching to his room. Meanwhile John shrieked with laughter as he let himself get manhandled.

“You are so strong!”

“Well, you weigh like- five stone, so,” Paul hiked John further up his shoulder to make a point, which elicited more cackles from John. Paul probably would have laughed along with him if he wasn’t already annoyed by John’s previous behavior. Once they reached his bedroom, Paul dropped John onto the bed, noticing how his light weight made him bounce higher than a normal adult. John gasped as he crossed his legs and kept bouncing, not paying attention to the outfit laid out next to him. Paul picked up the shirt and adjusted it in his arms so he could easily slip it over John. He wanted to tell John to stop, as the squeaky bed springs were grating to the ear, but figured he could use the distraction to his advantage. He pulled the shirt over John’s head, who stopped bouncing to freeze in confusion as his arms were pulled through the sleeves. Once the shirt was properly over his body, Paul grabbed the trousers only to notice that they were inside out. 

“Paul..what is this?”

Paul looked down at John, who was pulling at the hem of the large tshirt. “It’s a shirt, it’s what you’re wearing to the market with me.”

John suddenly groaned and shivered. “It’s ugly!”

“Thanks.” He held the trousers to John, who shook his head. Paul frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t want to wear that.” John whined. “I don’t want to go to market. I…” he rose onto his knees and placed his hands on Paul’s shoulders. “I want to stay in bed with you.”

Paul once again didn’t know how to respond to the soft, low voice John was speaking in, nor the soft hands rubbing at his chest. His mouth opened and closed lamely as he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. John must have known the effect he had on Paul, if the tiny smirk was anything to go by. The doll leaned closer, his movements painfully slow, until his lips brushed against Paul’s. John closed his eyes.

Paul pushed him away. “No, John. You’re putting on the joggers, and that’s final.”

Paul’s head raced with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he didn’t see anything wrong with indulging himself and fucking John; on the other, the consent argument was determined to be in the forefront of his worries. He didn’t know if he could forgive himself if he had sex with John, he wasn’t even sure if he would _enjoy_ the sex. Of course, the intercourse would be wonderful while it lasted (Paul was embarrassingly touch starved and John was incredibly sexy), but the regret that would gnaw at his brain when it was through would be unforgiving. Paul didn’t need that, not now. Besides, he didn’t need to have sex with John in order to enjoy his company. Paul had a prime example of modern technology at its finest at his fingertips. There was so much to learn and witness. So many questions left unanswered. 

John fell back into the bed with a huff. “I don’t want to go! Leave me here alone, then. I’ll be good.”

Paul rubbed his hands over his face, resisting the urge to raise his voice at John. “I am not leaving you here alone. Now stop wasting time, and put on the bloody trousers, John.”

John didn’t respond to Paul, much to the man’s disappointment, and began to pull off the shirt. Paul rushed forward to stop him.

“John- _don’t!_ ”

Paul tried to keep John from pulling the shirt off, but ended up toppling over him as John fell stomach-first onto the bed. Paul went to stand up but froze when he felt John moving under him, specifically his hips. John chuckled softly as he pressed his arse against Paul’s crotch, making him shoot up instantly.

“John. No.”

John rolled onto his back to scowl at Paul. “Why? Why do you not want to have sex with me, Paul?”

Paul didn’t expect John to ask such a question, and sputtered. “B-Because!” He found himself unable to voice his reasons, as they were starting to feel ridiculous to him.

“But I want to have sex with _you_...Paul.” Paul’s eyes widened as John squirmed slightly before pushing himself onto his hands and knees, crawling towards Paul. “I want you to fuck me. Hard. In any position you want, in any location…” then he was exactly where he was before Paul moved him, hands on Paul’s shoulders and lips ghosting over his. “Is that what you bought me for? To fuck me?”

Paul was actually beginning to consider shoving all his worries aside and pushing John back against the bed again, only this time to fuck him. But those words... _Is that what you bought me for? To fuck me?_ As if John was merely serving a purpose. That Paul’s purchase of him was the only reason John wanted to have sex with him. He wasn’t attracted to Paul. It was all an act. It wasn’t like Paul was surprised, just disappointed. He had allowed himself to believe that there may have been a discrepancy in John’s programming that allowed him to stray from the set of emotions he was designed to feel. Wishful thinking, that was. So much for getting his hopes up and doing what he so long desires to do to John. Instead, he placed his hands on John’s waist and pulled him away.

“Just...put the trousers on, John.”

  
  
  


—-

  
  
  


Getting John into the pants (and a pair of fuzzy socks as a replacement for shoes) was a mission succeeded, but it wasn’t the last challenge John was willing to put out. When he grabbed John’s hand and opened the front door, John jumped back and clung to Paul at the sight of the outside. Paul’s heart leapt as well, frightened that maybe John saw some weird animal. He grabbed onto John’s waist. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“T-the..t-t-the- it’s scary!” John turned to Paul and raised his arms. “Hold me!”

The answer didn’t do anything for Paul’s confusion. “Wh- I am holding you!”

John only whined and lifted a leg in an attempt to _climb_ Paul, and succeeded, too. He squeezed Paul’s neck with his arms and used that as leverage to pull himself up to wrap his legs around Paul’s waist. Paul sputtered.

“I- okay, yeah, _sure_. Use my body as a tree.” He gripped John’s waist to pull him off, only for the doll to cling tighter to him. “No, John. Stop acting like a child. You’re going to have to get used to the outdoors sooner or later- God, Jacques never took you outside?!”

Paul managed to set John onto his feet, who yelped when his feet touched the ground. Paul decided he had to act fast. He pushed John forward as he slammed closed the locked door behind him and gripped his shoulders.

“C’mon, John. You can walk to the car, can you?”

John moaned miserably as he was ushered forward. He whipped around to grab Paul’s neck again, only to get turned back around and gently moved forward.

“I’m scared of the car!” John cried.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to leave you here alone, John. What if someone comes over?”

“I will tell them to go away!” John turned around and reached for Paul again. “ _Please!_ ”

But Paul wasn’t having it. He wanted to trust John to be home alone, but the boy was far too curious and clueless for that. What’s if he set something on fire? What if he broke something? Paul couldn’t risk it. So he snatched John up and threw him over his shoulder and marched to the car. John let out a startled shout before a stream of cackles fell from his lips. Paul rolled his eyes. The way the boy’s mood could change within a second was remarkable. He pulled open the door to the passengers' side, which seemed to have reignited the fear in John. A surge of energy bursted through John as he kicked fearfully.

“Wait- no! Sorry! Désolé! _Désolé!_ ”

But Paul held his legs down with one arm before lowering him into the seat. He wrestled the seatbelt over John, which seemed to have subdued his panicking briefly as he looked down at the belt before looking up at Paul.

“You tied me up. Is this a game?”

Paul closed the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

When Paul started the car, John shouted and held onto his seat, which made Paul laugh. John scowled at him.

“Stop laughing at my fear!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

The first couple minutes of the car ride consisted of John sitting in the seat with his hands firmly clasped over his eyes. That was until Paul turned up the radio and he uncovered his eyes at the sound of the pop music that played softly. Paul smirked. He usually didn’t listen to pop, but the song seemed to make John calm down, who smiled to himself. John eventually became engrossed with the outside scenery. The passing cars, the pedestrians, and the stray animals. Paul, again, was okay with it. Anything to keep him from screaming was greatly appreciated. 

The market he was going to wasn’t far from his house and he arrived in no time. After finding a parking spot, Paul turned to John after lowering the music.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to stay in here while I’m away.”

John’s face sunk. “But I want to go inside with you...”

“I know, sweetheart. But you’re...I can’t. Besides, you haven’t any shoes on!”

John looked down at his socked feet before bringing one close to hold. “So!”

“So, it would be indecent for you to go in without shoes.” John duck his head and whined. Paul genuinely felt bad for the doll, reaching out to rub his knee. “I’m sorry, John. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay…” John looked up at Paul. “Paul...kiss me?”

Paul was just about to close the door and leave when that question was asked, only to freeze mid-action. Kiss? That was...at least John wasn’t asking to get fucked this time. Kiss. Paul can do that. He leaned closer slightly and motioned for John. 

“Come here.”

John jumped into action as soon as Paul gave him the clear. He dug his knees into his seat and his palms into Paul’s, on all fours, pursed his lips to Paul, eyes closed. Paul couldn’t help the warm smile that tugged on his lips at the sight of the awaiting John. 

He leaned down to press a kiss to John’s cheek. 

It wasn’t the kiss on the lips that John was hoping for but it made him melt all the same. John visibly shivered, a soft moan escaping his lips as he sunk into his seat. Paul chuckled and felt confident enough to leave now that John was satisfied. 

While shopping, he couldn’t help but feel conflicted once _again_ about John’s reaction to being kissed. How could Paul tell the difference between John’s actual emotions and the “factory” ones? He wanted to believe that John genuinely enjoyed his company and attention, but he was forced to remind himself that John was a doll made to be fucked. John didn’t even know what certain household items were for. He wasn’t made to feel, or have as a friend. Sure John was entertaining and endlessly precious, but that didn’t change the fact that he was only built to have sex with. The excitement wasn’t real. The eagerness to see him also couldn’t be real. Paul wondered if the same could be said about John’s fear and sadness. John showed apprehension about being left alone, and was terrified of the car. If those were also acts, what would be the point? Surely if he was a doll made for pleasure, he wouldn’t be so _difficult._ His brain went back to Brian and George’s behavior. 

Paul rolled his trolly back to his vehicle. A clerk offered to assist him with groceries but Paul was adamant about taking them himself. He wasn’t elderly or disabled, plus he didn’t need anyone seeing John in case the doll acted out. Paul absently opened the door to the backseat.

“I got ye some shoes, but I didn’t know what size you wore, so you’ll have to-“

Paul was cut off by the sight of John laying in the backseat wearing only the chiffon underwear once again. Paul hissed swears under his breath and looked around. 

“John. Where are your clothes?”

“I like these more…”

“John, god- take them off!”

John giggled and began to slide down the panties. “Okay…”

“Not like that!” Paul leapt forward to stop John and pull the joggers back over his legs, only he couldn’t for John was very determined to keep his legs close to his chest and shaking his head. Paul tried to remain quiet in fear of starting a scene. Though he was afraid it was a little too late for that.

“Paul? Is that you?”

Paul frantically pulled himself off of John and scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind him to greet his good friend Martin. He leaned against the car in an attempt to appear casual, but the tenseness in his shoulder had to be a dead giveaway.

“Hello, George.”

Martin looked at Paul with a raised brow, and Paul noticed that Brian was standing next to him clinging to the man’s arm, smiling politely. Paul frowned. Why couldn’t John behave that way? How long did it take for Martin to gain that kind of trust from Brian to take him to public places? Perhaps Brian was just already factored into being obedient. Paul smiled at him. 

“‘Ello, Brian.”

“Good afternoon, Paul.” Brian responded politely. “How are you doing today?”

“Good- great, actually. Great indeed…”

  
  


“What’s going on in there?” Martin finally asked, startling Paul as he nodded towards Paul’s car. “Do you have a pet?”

Paul waved him off and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, a _pet._ Dogs, you know.”

Martin and Brian’s eyes both landed on Paul’s car. Martin smirked to himself as Brian blushed and turned his head. Paul paled.

“Oh really, Paul? Because _that_ does not look like a dog to me.”

Paul was dreading it, but he eventually turned around to look at his car.

“Ah, fucken _hell_.”

John had the chiffon top rolled up to his neck and his red nipples pressed firmly to the glass, a wide grin on his face as he looked down at Paul.

Paul was starting to believe that the doll was directly out to get him.

“Ah-“ Paul turned to face Martin again. “That’s my, erm..he’s-“ he clumsily tried to find an excuse for John’s behavior and presence, but was at a loss for words. What was the point in hiding John from Martin? Martin owned a Live Doll and he was standing _right there_ for God’s sake. If Martin tried to judge him, then Paul would simply call him out for his hypocrisy. He sighed and blindly reached for the car handle before pulling open the door.

John was still standing on his knees with his top lifted, his fingers prodding at his nipples. His eyes landed on Brian and Martin and he giggled. 

“I am sorry, Paul. I did not mean to be _intrusive_.”

Martin narrowed his eyes at John, Brian still determined on looking away from him. Martin lifted a limo finger to weakly point at John.

“Paul...is that a-“

“Yes.” Paul interrupted, standing in front of John to block him from anyone who might see him. “And we need to talk.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! If you liked this chapter then please please leave comments! Your words inspire more than you’ll ever understand. No matter what you have to say, I appreciate it greatly ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! You comments fuel me so please please please leave one telling me what you think. I’ve already got the next part planned and half written 👀 
> 
> Come HMU on tumblr: femininehygieneproducts


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